Distant Obsession

by Gold, Ciara; Davis, Michael

  “You mean like the sailor and his first mate, like last night? Hold on a second, let me check.” Reece reached below the sheets. “Yep, he’s up for another roll.”

  “You’re so bad.” She chuckled. “It’s a word game. You have to answer a question. Hold on a second.” Lilah stretched across the lamp table, rifled deep within her purse and retrieved an envelope.

  A warm hand caressed her exposed bottom. “Honey, you keep flashing me like that and we’ll have to play a different game first.”

  She flopped back into place, prize in hand. “Later. Are you ready?”

  “Shoot.”

  “If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”

  “I already have it; she’s laying right next to me.”

  “Don’t be funny. You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what are you referring to; world peace?”

  “No, what do you want for you, for Reece Edwards?”

  “That’s easy. I want to be my own boss, not take orders from anyone else…except you of course. Like I told ya before. I want to start a small charter service, nothing big, one plane at first, maybe grow to half a dozen, but that’s a long way off. It takes…”

  “Here.” She placed the envelope in his hand.

  “What is this?”

  “Open it.”

  Reece lifted the flap, removed the computer printed slip for three quarters of a million dollars and grabbed the check with both hands. “Holy crap. You’re rich.”

  “No, my love; we’re rich.”

  “We? But I can’t. This is yours.”

  “What happened to all that crap about eternal mates? Was that just something you said to get lucky again?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then what? Consider it my endowment, or if you prefer, the installment from your new partner, only this partner is forever.”

  “Yeah, but – but, what about you? Isn’t there something you always wanted that this money can help with?”

  “What I want doesn’t come from a slip of paper, or bank account; what I’ve always wanted was the gift derived from the man I love.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “How’s this. One day in the very near future I want to hold the likeness of the one I care for, the one that makes me catch my breath each time I sample the depth of his eyes, the strength of his face. I want to see that image in a new life, one I can hold in my arms, help evolve into a young man, just like his father.” There. She’d put into words the one thing Ben would never even consider. At thirty-six, her biological clock screamed for children, and she couldn’t think of another man more worthy of the honor than Reece. She only hoped her desire wouldn’t scare him away. After all, he’d yet to propose.

  Reece drew her closer, so tight only the warmth of his tantalizing flesh fit between them. He inhaled her mild scent and penetrated her mouth with his tongue. “Yes, yes, I want that too, right now. We need to do it now.”

  Lilah giggled like a teenager on her first date. “It doesn’t have to be this instant.”

  “Yes it does, my love. I’m in my forties, you’re – I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited too damn long already.”

  She locked on his expression then grinned. “Damn, you’re right. No time to waste.” She caressed down the length of his form, to the nape of his neck, enveloped one nipple then the next and paused. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Like?”

  “I always thought I needed to be more aggressive so …” She cupped his chin and ran the pad of her thumb over his stubbled flesh. “Will you marry me, Reece Edwards?”

  “In a heartbeat. How does this afternoon sound to you?”

  She laughed and stroked his heated skin. “Make it next weekend, and you have a date. I have other plans for this afternoon.”

  “I think I’m marrying a wanton woman.”

  “Guilty.”

  He flipped her to her back, taking over what she’d started. “As long as I can…”

  A faint sound stoked the fear constantly lurking around the edges of her subconscious, and she pressed a hand against his chest. “What’s that?”

  “Not the snake thing again. He’s supposed to respond like that, Lilah. Every time you touch him, he’s going to…”

  “No, listen.”

  He refused to hear. “I swear to you, the only serpent between us is mine. Now stop playing silly games. You’re teasing the hell out of me.”

  “No Reece, I’m serious. I hear something at the door.”

  He shifted his attention toward listening. “Oh, that? It’s only Oscar.”

  “Who the hell’s Oscar?”

  “A local bandit. Bugs the neighbors from time to time. He’s a bit early this morning, but nothing to worry about.”

  “Why don’t you just call the police, let them handle it.”

  “He’s a raccoon, Lilah. A little critter trying to feed his family.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Reece reached up to the shotgun stored in the rack above his bed. “All right, I didn’t want to kill the little fellow, but if he scares you…”

  She stopped his arm. “No, don’t shoot him. Just make sure – please, just shoo him away.”

  “Sure, glad to.” Reece crawled from beneath the covers and motioned for her to remain in the room. “Stay there. Hopefully we can re-initialize the launch sequence when I get back.” He waggled his brows before strutting into the next room like a proud warrior.

  Twenty Five

  Three feet from the bedroom doorframe, in the shadows formed by the dim morning light reflected off the mirrored surface of the lake, Reece caught sight of a silhouette, not that of a critter, but a man, one with a raised arm directed straight at him. Instinctively, he grabbed the lamp by the couch and hurled it at the center mass of the dark form. The dark form tried to dodge, but Reece’s aim was dead on. An object dislodged from the man’s hand and slid across the floor.

  Reece lunged at his target and knocked him into the lounge chair. Together, both tumbled into the wall, and struggled for control of the pistol with the two-inch silencer attached to its barrel. The intruder kneed Reece in the groin, and he instantly collapsed to the rug. The man lifted the gun to fire.

  The room exploded with fire and smoke, like the blast from a fireworks display. Reese recognized the discharge as too massive for a pistol but instead from a 12-gauge shotgun. He turned to the image of Lilah’s exquisitely naked form back dropped against the doorway, legs spread, the smoking barrel poised and ready to deliver another two ounce load of double ought buckshot into the face of a dead man.

  He issued a single word. “Jesus.”

  In a voice verging between anger and hysteria, Lilah shuttered. “Is he dead?”

  Reece considered the mess of torn teeth, veins and flesh mangled into what was a human jaw and neck just twenty seconds ago. “I’d say so.”

  She dropped the weapon into the chair, scurried across the room, and collapsed into his lap. “I was so afraid.”

  “Of what, Annie Oakley. You blew his ass away. Damn, you’re kind of handy to have around, you know that?”

  She trembled within his arms. “No, not for me, I meant for you. I thought he was going to kill you. I just got you into my life, and I don’t…”

  Reece held her firmly against his body and rubbed up and down her arms. “I confess. That was close, but I have a wedding I don’t plan on missing, so I would have figured something out.”

  One minute you’re my defender, the next, so vulnerable. God I love you, Lilah.

  She sniffled. “Now what do we do?”

  “Call the Sheriff, but first, let’s do a little investigating of our own.” He tried to stand, but she wouldn’t let go of his neck. Reece pushed up against the wall, maintained his left arm around his mate, stepped four feet to the corpse and examined the contents of the murder’s body.

  He removed a slip of crumbled paper and read aloud
. “$30,000, both women, not before the Tdrive.” Reece made eye contact with Lilah. “God Lilah, there was a hit on you and Ashley. I know it’s difficult, but do you recognize the guy, maybe his frame, hair, height, his eyes; does he look familiar?”

  Her vision flashed for a microsecond across the carnage then returned to Reece. “He could have been the man that knocked me down outside the apartment just before I discovered Ben’s body…. Yes, I think he was the man.” Lilah removed the note from his fingers and touched one word with her forefinger. “What if he’s already gotten to Ashley?”

  Reece shook his head. “No. The note says not before Tdrive, and we have the damned files. You have to believe Ashley’s all right.”

  Her lips tilted slightly. “You’re right. I have to think positive.”

  “Let’s see why the Kingpin thought that disk was worth killing for. Where’s the data unit?”

  “Whoops. I was so excited when I found it, I just ran over here to share the news. It’s still at my house in my suitcase.”

  He rose to his feet and extended one hand downward. “Let’s get dressed and go get it.”

  Twenty Six

  Lilah pointed to the PC on her desk. “You boot up the computer, and I’ll be right back with the envelope I discovered in my artist briefcase.”

  Reece did as ordered. The screen saver popped up and caught him breathless. In the center, in vivid color, stood the focus of her distant obsession; the one that now held her heart as she did his. The photograph depicted Reece, his body reflecting every droplet of sweat from the sun overhead, muscles straining, twisting, as he worked on his second love, the Jenny May.

  Damn, how lucky can one man be?

  “Oh, forgot about that picture. Sorry.” Lilah reached across his right shoulder. “Here’s the packet I found in…”

  Reece spun in place and pulled her body into his lap. “Sorry? What the hell for; loving me?” He softly cupped her left breast, not with lustful intent, rather with adoration. “Don’t ever apologize for keeping me in your heart, Angel. It’s what I’ve… no, it’s what we both were deprived of for too long, and now will share for eternity.” He gently caressed both eyelids before plummeting her sweet mouth, tasting every corner, every crevice until he felt her nipple respond beneath the blouse.

  He pulled back, surveyed her visage of contentment flavored with arousal. Gradually, two sparkling emeralds peered back.

  She moistened her lips. “Nice.”

  “I love you, Lilah.”

  She caressed his face with her fingertips. “I know, Reece, I know.”

  Two mates bonded, visually, tactically, separated from the world, except for the heat exchanged between their bodies; neither wishing to end the contact. Finally he realized the purpose of their mission in her office. “Oh, the envelope. Let’s see what we have.”

  Lilah took one more kiss and moved into the chair by his side. He torn off the end of the package, shook out the contents, and twirled the three-inch device in his fingers. “Just as you surmised, it’s a thumb drive. Whatever was serious enough to warrant someone taking a contract on the Senator, as well as repeatedly trying to gain access to you, must be contained in here. Your husband figured no one would suspect a beat up old briefcase full of art supplies. Why should they? Didn’t make sense to the kingpin that you’d be involved in it.”

  “In what?”

  “That’s what we’re about to find out.” Reece inserted the storage unit into the USB port of the computer and clicked twice on the screen icon. A directory popped onto the screen.

  Lilah encircled her fingers around his free hand. “What is it?”

  “Not sure yet.” He pointed to the folder entitled correspondence. “Looks like a list of communiqués between elements within an organization. This one over here…” Reece moved the cursor two lines down to the word Oghma IOC Tests. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “Remember what we discussed when we were sailing the first time?”

  She displayed a Cheshire grin. “Sorry, but my mind and body were attentive on other things. You need to be more specific.”

  “The avionics system I mentioned, the one I supported just before leaving the service; it was called Oghma. That can’t be happenstance; they have to be one and the same. And look,” he pointed at the designator at the top of the directory, Para-sonar, Inc. “it’s the same company you referred to that night.”

  Lilah’s expression reflected a stone cold realization of the complex web of deception beginning to unfold before their eyes. Finally, her mouth released the kernel from which all her nightmares emanated with two words. “Pierce Ackland.”

  “That’s right, Lilah. Whatever’s stored in these records, that guy, or someone in his company, was driven to hide from public view by committing murder.”

  “So you think Pierce was involved from the start?”

  “Seems logical to me. He conveniently provided console that encouraged you not to talk to the press. You said you overheard an argument between your husband and someone else; could have been this guy. I researched his portfolio this morning based on our previous conversation. The man’s had a shaded past.”

  “How so?”

  “Reported mafia ties, back door funneling of political funds, even alleged involvement with contractual irregularities. The guy’s a shit bird, just like your ex. They both came from the same cesspool out of Chicago and moved to DC ten years ago to start up this company.”

  “How come I never heard of this before?”

  “When it comes to political corruption and union bribery, not all media outlets provide honest coverage.”

  “What in the world do unions have to do with this?”

  “It’s been reported that the Senator and Ackland received their seed capital for the company from labor bosses. It’s all one big snake pit. These guys are so deep in a nest of vipers, no wonder they don’t want anyone poking into their backdoor affairs.”

  “Okay, so Ben and Pierce were scum, I get that part, but what does it have to do with this thumb drive.”

  “Good question. Let’s take a look at what lies beneath their blanket of corruption. Pick any file that tweaks your interest.”

  She pointed to the one labeled IOC R&M Analysis Results. “What do these abbreviations mean?”

  “IOC refers to Initial Operational Capability. For weapons systems, it’s the stage of engineering and developmental maturity that exists for the first units delivered to the government.”

  “And R&M?”

  “I’d assume it means Reliability and Maintainability. All airborne avionics or general electronic systems are required to undergo a specified number of test cycles to evaluate how durable they are before deployment into the fleet. I guess these are the documents that report the results.”

  “Oh.”

  Reece opened the file labeled, Stress test. “Holy crap.”

  “What is it?”

  “Look at the threshold level.” He touched the green dotted line across the chart. “This jagged plot represents equipment availability as a function of simulated carrier launches. See how after roughly a hundred and twenty flights, the line dives below the contracted design specification rate.”

  “Yes, so?”

  “Once you hit that number of catapult flights, it remains in the crap zone.”

  “The what?”

  “Sweetheart, navy aircraft are exposed to more environmental and operational stress than other military systems. Being shot off the deck causes what engineers refer to as high jerk shock, which places accelerated trauma on all the components, but especially to avionics composed of integrated circuits, boards, and tiny connector joints.”

  “I understand that, Reece, but what does it have to do with this chart?” Her frustration communicated itself to Reece as her tonal pitch elevated.

  He scratched his head. “Sorry, my fault. Let’s try it this way. Modern high technology weapons maintain a competitive edge over our enemie
s because they’re built to be functionally superior and be available to the warrior during combat. However, if the equipment is unreliable, doesn’t matter how damn capable it is. When the pilot needs it, the system won’t operate. This graphic on the screen reveals that clearly a fault exists in the IOC design of the Oghma sensor package. Works fine during the first phase of deployment, but shortly afterward, say four months later, the equipment turns to shit. From this data, the initial construction is flawed and doesn’t withstand carrier launch ops.”

  “Fine, then why the big deal? Just fix it before you ship out the units.”

  “Angel, you’re thinking like the honest person you are, brimming with morality. You need to think more deviously, say like a politician, more specifically like the Senator and his old partner.”

  Lilah lowered her eyebrows and concentrated. “Don’t tell me they get paid again to fix it?”

  “Ah, you’re both beautiful and smart as a whip.”

  “But why would the government pay them twice?”

  “They won’t if the team evaluating the IOC units knew of the issue. Thing is, pre deployment trails would not generally place enough high stress cycles to drive the avionics into this crap range here,” Reece pointed at the 120 mark on the curve. ”Once the initial lot of IOC production systems is accepted, it’s the government’s responsibility, not the company’s. The contractor gets repaid for mod kits to upgrade the units to alleviate the design flaw.”

  “That stinks.”

  “Yes, it does. These assholes knowingly release subpar equipment, figuring they’d simply get more money, even though it was their mistake, and they knew it.”

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  “A lot. Avionics is expensive and refurnishing the equipment in the field can cost a ton. The contractor responsible for the design flaw stands to benefit big time, say an additional fifty to eighty million in fraudulent charges.”

  “Damn. That’s terrible.”

  “Indeed, it is, especially given our warriors are risking their very lives to protect these turds. Now you see why the data on this thumb drive was so critical to Ackland. Question is, how did the Senator get a hold of it?”